


you're catnip to a girl like me

by Hermia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermia/pseuds/Hermia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After proving to be less than tempting bait for Derek Hale, Erica was let out of the Alpha pack's claws and found her way home. But even an omega had somewhere to go once, someone who cared about them. She just wasn't expecting Stiles to end up on her doorstep. What happened next surprised her even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After a few days, it started to hurt less.  


A week and all he had was a light bruise.  


Two weeks and Stiles could talk to Lydia without feeling an ache in his chest.  


Almost a month and he found out from Scott, who found out from Isaac, that Erica had never run away. Or to be more precise, she and Boyd never got far enough.  


They had been kidnapped by another group of people out to fuck things up for his friends, some group of alphas that Derek would only give vague explanations about and expected him to just bend over and take his trust issues when they were putting people he cared about at risk.  


So he decided to go to the source. Only the pack of werewolves were quite honestly the last thing on his mind, he realized as he knocked on the door. No, he wasn't here for information. He was here for Erica. He was here for her big brown eyes and the memory of them being full of tears from the sheer amount of pain she was suffering, for a promise that he made not to forget her if he ever got over Lydia.  


Batman would never visit Catwoman, but Bruce saw Selina all the time.  


After a few moments of silence, he knocked on the door again, hoping to every deity he could think of that Erica hadn't tried to run off again. 

The girl who answered the door wasn't Erica.

Or was she?

Tucking behind her ear the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail when she hurried to her feet, Erica's brows knitted inward. Her movements were jerkier than he remembered, more reminiscent of someone he'd seen a few months ago, someone who disappeared after an accident on the rock wall.

Her mouth twitched as her brows flattened over her eyes. “Stiles? What are you doing here?”

“Uh, checking on you?” Stiles' eyebrows twitched, lips pressing into a thin line as he looked her over. She was just as pretty as she always had been, but she was... hollow. Scared, too. “I had to hear that you were not only back but the victim of kidnap and God knows what else through Scott, who found out through Isaac. I'm not even gonna bother asking if you're okay.” 

“I am,” she replied, too quickly to be believed. “Do you... wanna come in? My mom would kill me if she knew I kept the door open in this heat.”

Stepping back to let Stiles inside, Erica closed the door behind him and locked it. And the deadbolt. She turned around like it was the most normal thing in the world and crossed the living room to where she'd been sitting, nodding in the direction of the two other unoccupied cushions before muting the television. “Thanks. For checking on me. You and Isaac are the only ones who've bothered. I don't think Derek even knows where I live.”

“Big surprise. The only guy who's a bigger douchebag than he is is his own friggin' uncle.”  


He looked around briefly before sitting on the opposite side of the couch, facing her as much as he could without putting his feet up on the cushions. “So are you going to tell me how you really feel? Because I don't need to hear your heartbeat to know you lied to me back there.” 

“I wasn't—“ Erica sighed and curled her hands inside the bottom few inches of her t-shirt. “Derek talks about needing a pack and wanting to be a pack and everyone needing their packmates to be stronger, but he didn't even go after us. I was stuck with the Alphas for a _month_. My mom put out a missing person's report. They basically sent him an invitation to come and get me, but guess who never got the RSVP?”

“So you're upset your pack-daddy treated you like the disposable guard dog you are to him.”  


At her face, Stiles simply shrugged. “Look, I'm not going to be able to be Mr. Sensitive over this.” He moved a few inches closer, hitching his thigh farther up on the couch to turn toward her more. “Derek cares about  _surviving_ . Yeah, it's easier to survive with a pack, but if it's your life or his, he's choosing his. You sure as hell don't deserve to be treated like that, but you shouldn't be surprised.”

“I was _alone_ , Stiles.” Erica's jaw twitched, and her molars ground together. She refused to cry; she didn't even shed a tear when her mom picked her up on the highway just outside Beacon Hills city limits. “I wasn't even that alone before the bite. I thought they were gonna kill me. Before that, I thought Allison was gonna kill me. Or the Argents. Or the kanima. I shouldn't be this _scared_ all the time. I don't like knowing nobody's gonna come for me if I get into trouble.”

He winced, chewing on his bottom lip for a second before speaking again. “Sorry. That was harsh. Hasn't been a great month for me, either.”  


Sighing, Stiles moved closer still so he could reach out and touch her hand. “I though you and Boyd  _ran away_ . If  _anyone_ had told me what was going on, I would have been there, alright? I get what it's like to be so fucking terrified all the time. Try being a useless human in all this mess. But you're not-- you're not alone, okay? Maybe you were then, but that doesn't mean you're always going to be.”  


Stiles released her hand, rubbing both of his against his thighs. “People are always gonna end up letting you down, Erica,” he muttered, looking down at his lap. “Or you're going to let people down. It's, like, our collective agenda as a species.”

Her eyes followed his hands, but found his face soon after, chin tilted downwards and her body body still facing frontwards. “You're not useless,” she murmured, her gaze falling back down to his hands before moving away entirely. 

Erica pulled her legs up onto the couch instead, feet digging into the cushion and her thighs pressing against her chest. If not for her arms curled around her shins, her feet would've ended up on the floor again. “I mean... it probably sounds like the opposite of what I was talking about, but I don't want you to run into those kinds of situations. Especially not for me. I can handle the pain. I don't want you getting hurt because of me. That'd be even worse.”

“Sorry,” he said with a lazy hitch of a shoulder. “Sort of what I do. Especially for my friends. And there's this little sliver of hope I'm clinging to that you _might_ still want to try and make a boyfriend out of me.” His tongue darted out and wet his lips, fingers wringing in his lap, belying the casualness of his tone. “I mean there's no telling what I'd do for my girlfriend.”

Her chin snapped upwards, brows knitting together if she wasn't entirely convinced he was being serious. But at the sight of his expression, not smirking or even smiling, she felt her heart take off like it was running some kind of race. A sprint, too; not some long distance thing with a slow build.

“But...” Erica's head tilted, her arms loosening around her legs and allowing them to slide off of the couch. “What happened to – is everything okay? You didn't hit your head getting out of your jeep, did you?”

“Nah. Old Man Argent might've knocked a few screws loose, but I think I'm okay. Nothing I needed.”  


Sighing heavily, Stiles ran a hand over his growing hair, scratching at the back of his neck. “Watching the girl you had a crush on essentially resurrect her boyfriend with the sheer power of her love kind of helps with the whole 'moving on' process.”

“Sorry. I didn't... really get any details from Isaac. He had to get back to the clinic once he was convinced I was okay,” she replied. Rubbing her lips together, her eyes fell to his lap, and she reached over, giving his knee a nudge with the back of her hand. “I thought I was gonna have to chase you down and convince you that you really wanted someone like me instead of her. I didn't realize you'd show up gift-wrapped if something happened to me.”

“ _And_ I'm wrapped up in shitty clothes that are too baggy for you to realize the hell you're going to put yourself through by dating me.” Instead of nudging her hand in return, his index finger curled around her pinky. “I'd been thinking about it for a couple weeks now. Thought I lost my chance, then you came back, couldn't help myself, etc.”

The corner of her mouth hitched upwards when she felt his finger wrap around her pinky, and it only widened when she heard the rest of what he had to say. “I didn't think I'd get a chance, either. I didn't think you'd  _want_ one, since evidently I'm werebait.”

“Uh, Erica? Have you missed the part where you're, like, _everyone_ bait?” He smiled at her then, a small curve at the corner of his mouth. “So I need to smack some werewolves around. It's cool; I'd do that anyway.”

“So are you always this heroic, or am I just special?” Resting her head against the back of the couch, Erica slipped her pinky finger away from his hand only to rest her own on top of his. “I was already suspending disbelief that you didn't have, like, an army of girls chasing after you. So where are you hiding them? Do you take turns, or do you all go on huge group dates?”

Stiles snorted at that, rolling his eyes as he flipped his hand over to interlace their fingers. “See this?” He lifted their joined hands. “This is as far as I've gotten with a girl who actually wanted to be with me. I mean, I danced with Lydia and our hips  _almost_ touched. That's it.”  


He let their hands fall back to the cushion. “Seriously this and almost-touching is all I can handle. Even if I had an horde of ladies, which I do  _not_ and never will because... seriously, I have to  _explain_ it to you? Anyway, it's because I would lose it like the moment one of them touched my thigh. Plus, I'm kind of a one woman guy. Very monogamous and dedicated to make up for... everything else.”

Erica drew her index finger inward, not letting go of his hand but stroking over the inside of his middle finger with a small smile. 

“You know, for all the trouble I get into, if it was ever you... I'd run in, too. Like you said you would for me.” She pursed her lips for a moment before rubbing her cheek against the back of the couch and looking over at him. “And all I've been doing lately is running away, so that's kind of a big deal.”

He nodded at that, joining her at the back of he couch, pressing the apple of his cheek upward until one eye was nearly shut. “Yeah, it's a two-way street. I get that. Rather not put it to the test, though.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

When she chuckled, Erica averted her eyes, though they found his again not long after. She swallowed hard enough for him to hear, her grip on his hand loosening, but not moving so much as a centimeter. “You've got time, you know. If you're not really ready or not really over her or whatever. I told you the crush wasn't going anywhere. That's still true.”

Stiles bobbed his head again. “I don't know. I mean, I don't want you feeling like that I'm settling for you or something. What happened with her and Jackson... there's only so much denial I can live in.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he stared at their hands, thumb brushing along her skin. “Do I still get a tingly feeling when I look at her sometimes? Yeah. Would I dump you for her? No. I'm still getting over it, but I'm over it  _enough_ to feel like I'm ready for this. You're not... second best, you're just another girl I really, really like. And you want to date me.”

There was no denying the way all it took was a brush of his thumb to have her skin humming, for tiny goosebumps to prickle at the skin of her arms. Exactly how many times had she imagined something like this happening between them? More times than she could count without turning almost purple with embarrassment. She just hadn't really expected it to happen like this when sitting in freshman algebra.

Still, she wouldn't let that knock her off her stride, if it could be called that.

Wetting her lips, she waited for a moment until he looked back up at her instead of at their hands. “Do you get a tingly feeling when you look at me?”

He took a moment to think. Stiles knew the answer, but he didn't want to just blurt it out. One of the big things his dad liked to say rang in his mind.  _Unless you're telling her that you love her, never just say what they want to hear. At least give them the illusion that you thought about it; they'll appreciate it. And you might actually need the time._   


So he paused, and he thought about when he saw her golden curls, her big brown eyes that does were probably jealous of. He thought about her smirk and her husky voice and the way her noise crinkled. By the end of the internal slideshow, he was smiling.  


“Yeah, I do,” he murmured, sliding so close that their hands had to rest on top of their legs instead of on the couch. His heart was beating like crazy, but he didn't try to calm it. Stiles wanted her to hear it, and he wanted her to hear how it sped up even more when he met her eyes. “A lot, actually.”

She could hear it. The sound of his heart speeding up made hers race even faster, pumping so loud in her ears she swore he could hear it even without heightened senses.

Her thumb rubbed over the back of his hand, a slow, deliberate stroke in an attempt to focus on one thing, to combat the swirling thoughts and realizations of how close they were and how he smelled like cologne (had he put it on just to visit her?) and how his cute upturned nose was a few inches away from hers. Tops. And how much she wanted to kiss him.

“Have you ever?” she asked, blinking when she realized how vague the question was. Talking without thinking through often led down that path. “Been kissed before, I mean. I know you said that this was the farthest you've ever really gotten, but... ever?”

The tone of her voice wasn't judgmental. Not towards him, at least. Maybe towards the rest of the student body.

As if brought out by the question, his tongue swiped over his lips, teeth catching on the bottom swell. He shook his head “No.” Stiles wasn't particularly embarrassed by the fact. While he knew he wasn't a catch, he imagined he could have at  _least_ gotten a crappy grade school peck from someone if he hadn't fallen under Lydia's spell in third grade.  


“It'd be pretty amazing if you'd help me out here,” Stiles muttered, the drying saliva on his lips causing them to stick and pull slowly apart as he talked,” 'cause I'd _love_ to kiss you right now, and the moment feels right, but I'm pretty sure I'd still end up doing something monumentally stupid.”

Without saying another word, Erica managed to hurry to the rescue for the first time.

She didn't slide her hand out of his. She didn't throw a leg over his lap and tangle a hand in what little hair he'd grown over the past few weeks. She barely even touched him when she leaned forward, her mouth finding his without any trouble. Her lips parted only to close again when they pressed against his, fingers tangling a little tighter around his when she took a breath in through her nose and shut her eyes to linger there for just long enough.

Just long enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and her stomach to do at least three cartwheels in her gut. Just long enough for her heart rate to slow down to something manageable, something that didn't drown out every sound in a ten mile radius.

When she pulled away, she wet her lips immediately, her eyes finding his the moment they opened.

Stiles licked his lips, too.  


He blinked rapidly, as if trying and failing to focus his eyes. Where her heart was calm, his was beating a mile a minute, rapid and sturdy and thumping at the skin along his neck. His ears and cheeks were a bright red, both palms sweating from the waves of heat coursing through his body – and her's, for that matter.  


“Yeaaaah,” Stiles finally managed, wetting his lips for the third time in the past few minutes. “More than a tingle.”

The words brought a bright smile to Erica's face, though it softened just after. Reaching forward, she rested her hand high up above his stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric just below his sternum. “Your turn then, right?” Her head drifted to the side, and her ever-changing smile shifted into something of a smirk. It didn't quite match the spark in her eyes. “You said you wanted to kiss me. So kiss me. I've got proof positive you won't screw anything up.”

“Right,” he chuckled before taking a deep breath. “No pressure. Just following the best act ever.”  


Swallowing thickly, he brought his own hand upward, finding a lock of hair that had broken free of her ponytail and pushing it back behind her ear, keeping his fingers right there as he leaned in with closed eyes.  


Missing his mark, he kissed the corner of her mouth instead, but he quickly corrected himself, lips splitting to envelope the bottom swell and close around it as he slowly began to work his lips, releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, though he didn't try to bring her closer.

Her body moved forward by its own accord when she felt his arm around her, shifting closer until their outer thighs bumped together and her chest pressed against his. 

She rested the hand he'd been holding on his shoulder before sliding her arm upwards, warm palm cradling the back of his neck. Every movement he made, Erica did her best to match it, tilting her head to the side so their mouths fit together, struggling to keep her breaths steady as it really hit her what was happening. She was kissing Stiles. But she wasn't just kissing  _him_ ; he was kissing her. The word girlfriend had been mentioned. He'd worried about her.

And it was all actually happening.

A few more seconds brought the kiss to a close, but Stiles didn't move away.  


He didn't really like physical contact, at least stuff that he didn't initiate. There was a little bubble around him that a select few people were able to bypass without bothering him too much. Whether she had always been one of those people, or it had only just happened, Stiles wasn't sure, but he was infinitely grateful for the way he was able to stay close, rubbing the tip of his nose against the side of hers.  


“Sooo, 'not bad'?” His tone was light, though the question was completely legitimate. “'Please never kiss me again?' I'm pretty sure I'm not at panty-combusting levels yet, but my boxers are going to get really uncomfortable soon, so. Good work?”

“That was the best kiss _I've_ ever had,” Erica murmured, her voice huskier than intended. 

Clearing her throat, she pursed her lips before planting another, brief peck on his lips. “You'll do your share of panty combusting later, I'm sure. And then you'll ruin me for all other guys. And girls. Anyone, really, because I've never even seen anyone with lips like yours.”

Said lips curled into a smile that was just a hint short of an actual smirk. “Says the girl with the most flawless...  _everything._ In the  _world_ .” Stiles laughed and shook his head. “I don't even want to try listing everything right now, because I'm gonna  _stare_ and I'm already having issues and I'd really appreciate it if we could save that embarrassment for something special like prom night.”

Erica laughed under her breath.

“You're something else. You know that, right? And I don't mean that in a weird way. I mean it in a one of a kind way.” Her hand was still resting on the back of his neck, so it didn't take much to wrap her other arm around him, too, guiding him into a hug. A firm one, one she didn't let go of immediately. There was a smile in her voice loud enough for him to hear when she continued. “I'd bet anything I'm the luckiest girl on the west coast. At _least_.”

Stiles' fingers curled into the back of her shirt, one finger idly rubbing along the indentation of her bra. He was too busy burying his face into the crook of her neck to notice what he was doing, and really didn't mean anything by it in the first place.  


“Hey, by all means, think that,” he said, squeezing her gently. “Hold on to that feeling and please, for the love of God, remember it when I inevitably say or do something so obscenely stupid it'll be the only thing that keeps you from kicking my ass.”

“I'll remember,” she murmured, shutting her eyes and turning closer to him to give him more room to bury his face. He was so close and his heart was still beating so fast. The fact that she could hear that thrumming beat and she knew it was because of her made everything about this even better. Maybe since he was so close to her now, he might be able to feel hers.

Pressing a tiny kiss to the curve of his neck, she turned just enough to rub her cheek against the very same spot. “So... the kissing sealed it, right? We're official?”

“Yeah, definitely.” It took a pause, a moment to think, before he returned the kiss to her neck. He shifted until he was able to press her lips to her bounding pulse. There was comfort in how it stuttered beneath his lips.  


Pulling back, he managed a brief, nervous twitch of a smile. “Do you maybe want to come over for dinner tonight? I'm a pretty good cook. My dad's working late and we have a pretty good movie collection.” His mouth twitched again. “Not the snazziest first date, but...”

“Sounds kind of perfect, actually,” Erica said. Quickly, but not too quick to plant disbelief. There was no lie in the words. The idea of having dinner with Stiles at his house and then watching a movie together _was_ perfect. And a million times better than heating up leftover kung pao chicken and watching her Project Runway DVDs. 

She arched a brow. “I could bring dessert?”

Stiles choked on whatever response it was going to give her.  


The coughing was wretched, enough to bring tears from his eyes from the scratching of his throat, but with Erica soothingly rubbing at his back, he eventually found his breath again, looking at her incredulously from the corner of his eye.  


“Please tell me you mean baked goods or something.” There was a roughness to his voice from all the coughing. “But if you mean dessert as in... _you know_ , uh. I won't be complaining. At all.”

“I was thinking... cookies.”

Erica's laugh was more of a giggle than anything else, her cheeks burning from the width of her smile. She couldn't help herself; if she knew someone had such an endearing weakness, she had no option but to exploit it. Just a little. “Come on. I have to wait at least a month before I show up in your room with edible underwear and a whipped cream bra.”

Stiles groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I don't know whether to hate you for your siren-like torment or to thank you for an image that's going to make me very happy for at  _least_ a few months.”

She chimed in again with a similar laugh, her arms circling around his shoulders. “I can't help it. I've been waiting to make you blush like that for months.” The bridge of her nose bumped against the apple of his cheek. “You can't blame me for taking advantage.”

“Nope. Nope, I _totally_ can, because I? I now have to drive home with a boner.” He was desperately trying to look serious and angry, but she was smiling and her eyes were brighter than he'd seen them in months.  


He just ended up kissing her again, a quick peck. “You really are Catwoman. Nice to have my assessment confirmed in such a painfully humiliating way.”

She grinned against his lips, smile disappearing only when she began planting little kisses over his cheek to his ear, not kissing it but hovering close enough to let out a quiet  _me_ _**ow** _ without having her lips brush skin. “Got that right,” she continued before giving him another, tighter squeeze. “Totally can't wait for you to wow me with your culinary skills, Mr. Wayne.”

“Ha-ah. Okay. Wow, we're _not_ getting into that ten minutes after we started dating.” Stiles wasn't necessarily into the idea of roleplaying, but the Michelle Pfeiffer-esque _meow_ coupled with calling him 'Mr. Wayne' was heading into fantasy territory that pretty much every geek had at one point.  


Clearing his throat, he wriggled out of her arms and stood up, tugging his baggy shirt down as far as it could go (not that he was really showing, he was just incredibly self-conscious and didn't want to think about the things a girlfriend does to a penis).  


“Uh. I should, uh, go,” Stiles stammered. “I need to... buy some stuff to cook dinner. And-- and what do you like to drink?”

Erica stood up, too, more to let him out than play a shadow.

“Soda,” she replied simply. “Anything, really. Coke's good. Anything carbonated and loaded with sugar.”

“Okay. I'll get you something small so I'm not tempted to kiss you just to steal the sugar.” His lips split in a bashful smile. “Well, not _just_ because. But I don't get soda often, so it's a pretty good deal.” Suddenly, he was grinning, chin tilted up in pride. “I'd like to note that I totally could have said something about the sweetness of your kisses and I _didn't_ , and I think that sort of restraint earns me at least two goodbye kisses.”

Erica found herself smiling again, too, lips split apart in a grin to match his. She made a thoughtful noise and reached over to grab one of his hands in hers. “At least two, huh?” Taking a step forward, she moved even closer, her face hovering only a few inches in front of his. “I don't know... I think that might be pushing it.”

“Do you really want me telling you that I'm going to need to take more Aderrall because of all the sugar in your sweet kisses?” Stiles raised his brows, tilting his chin down slightly. “That's an ugly, dark path, Erica. I've saved us both untold amounts of embarrassment.”

“Huh... If there are bad side effects, maybe I shouldn't give you any on your lips, then.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss just beside his mouth, her nose digging into the soft flesh of his cheek. The next landed on his jaw. When she pulled away, her expression was thoughtful, her hand still laced through his. “That better?”

Stiles stood there like a deer in headlights. It wasn't that he wasn't expecting a kiss, it was that he really didn't think that two simple pecks – one nearly on his cheek and the other on his jaw – could get him all twisted up as much as a kiss on the lips.  


“Ye-yeah,” he managed, rubbing his jaw with his free hand. “That's, uh, it's pretty perfect, thanks.”

When Erica moved past him, she flexed her fingers outward just enough to brush over his hand. “I'll be over in a few hours,” she said, only stopping to twist the locks on the door open. “That should give you enough time, right? I wouldn't mind helping out if I can if I'm too early.”

“Sounds good.” Stiles side-stepped to let her open the door, lingering at the threshold as he turned back toward her, slender fingers drumming on the frame. “I should proooobably ask if you're allergic to anything? I'm not expecting this to go off without a hitch but, y'know, anaphylatic shock is just not something I'd like to have happen. Might be second date material.”

“No food allergies to speak of.” Stepping forward again, she rested a hand on his chest, fingers drumming over it as she visibly mulled over her own thoughts. “Ironically, the only allergy I had before the bite was pet dander. Wrap your head around _that_ one.”

“Sooo, puppy for Christmas, maybe?” He grinned, stepping into her touch and leaning in further just to give her cheek a peck. “Anyway, I gotta go get started. Text me before you come over? I'll need to tell my hordes of ladies that you think I have to skedaddle.”

Erica nodded. “I'll give you a good head start. They probably won't let you go that easy.” She paused, a smirk replacing a smile, though she gave his chest an affectionate rub before dropping her hand. “I know I wouldn't.”

To that he just arched a brow, nodding a few times before practically bolting for his car. He still managed an awkward wave from the driver's seat, smiled when she returned it with a hell of a lot more grace than he could hope for.

Driving to the store, he really couldn't take his mind off her. What feelings he had (still had? He wasn't so sure) for Lydia were toxic. He'd grown to realize that, accept it, and continued to pursue it anyway. It was comforting to have something to go back to, no matter how unhealthy it was. No matter what, he would always feel for her, and she would always love someone else. It was sturdy.   


But now,  _now_ he had a girlfriend. A girl he knew very little about, beyond that fact she was fiercer than a whole pack of werewolves and prettier than any super model he'd ever seen. It was unknown territory. And it was terrifying.  


Admittedly, Stiles didn't like change. He didn't adapt well. He liked things to feel structured and safe, because that meant things were better for those around him.  


When he thought back on Erica's smile, her playful  _meow_ , and the way she so easily, so  _naturally_ touched him without a bit of hesitance, though... anxiety, at least for now, wasn't about to take away this genuinely happy feeling.


	2. Chapter 2

All he was waiting for was the stupid pasta.  


The chicken was cubed and browned. Cream sauce mixed with thyme, mint, lemon zest, honey and a splash of apple cider vinegar was waiting to be poured over it. Sourdough rolls were currently crisping in the oven. The table was set, Erica's Dr. Pepper was chilled, and he was _still_ waiting for the goddamn pasta.  


Stiles absolutely _hated_ waiting around for water to boil, especially when it was getting just hot enough to start bubbling, but obviously not quite hot _enough_ to actually boil. The jumble of molecules may as well have been taunting him. Granted, a lot of his anger was out of pure nervousness at the moment.  


Erica had texted a few minutes ago, so she was likely almost there. The timing was good, the pasta would be done a few minutes after she arrived, giving him time to welcome her and apologize for the fact that he looked like a step-child of a posh country club sort of family who was forced to take all the hand-me-downs. Crisp, clean jeans and matching belt and shoes and a polo shirt. His dad's polo shirt that he had to bunch at the back and safety pin, tucking the entire thing into his pants to make it look any kind of decent.  
  


He wouldn't blame her if she laughed.  


Regardless, he was as ready as he could be.  


At least, he thought he was until his oven timer went off at the same time as the doorbell rang.  


Muttering a heated, “ _Shit_ ,” under his breath, Stiles quickly grabbed an oven mitt, pulling out the rolls and turning off the heat as he used his knee to shut the door again. The tray clattered loudly when he dropped it on the counter.  


Rushing toward the door, he fumbled with the lock once or twice, only to find himself at a complete loss for words when he opened the door. His mouth hung open. She was all smiles and tan skin wrapped in a thin, violet sundress and strappy sandals and Stiles was pretty sure the drool in his mouth had nothing to do with his cooking.  


“Wow,” he said before shaking his head in hopes he might regain some mental facilities. “Uh, hi.” Stiles didn't even notice the oven mitt that still covered his hand as he waved. “Come in? Please? Before I'm convinced this is a dream?”

Erica stood as still as a statue, her face alight with a smile and her hands clutched around a pastry box. Not until she heard her mother's car drive off down the road did she relax enough to laugh at herself. “If this was a dream, I wouldn't need to put this in your fridge. It'd actually be done,” she said, shifting on her feet until Stiles moved aside to let her in. 

When she stepped past him, she leaned up to give his cheek a kiss, though the smooch itself faltered when her pursed lips spread in an even wider smile than before.

“You clean up nice,” Erica told him without a hint of teasing, her eyes moving from the top of his head to his feet and back again after she turned around to face him again. “And whatever you cooked smells _amazing_. I'm starting to think this might be _my_ dream. I mean, the super embarrassing conversation I had with my mom on the way here is pretty in line with my usual.”

“Do I even want to know?” Stiles shut and locked the door behind her, heading for the kitchen afterwords, though his hand lingered on her back as he walked by. “Go ahead and stick it in the fridge. I think we have room. Your soda's in there, too!” 

She followed him, watching as he pulled open the fridge and slipping the box into a free space when she spotted one. “Just the usual. Well... okay, so not the usual, but she seemed excited that I finally managed to snag 'the boy of my dreams.' I haven't seen her get that excited about something pertaining to me since my first sleepover. In third grade.”

With her hands finally free, Erica turned towards Stiles and rested a hand on his waist. “So I used to talk about you a lot. Sue me.” Attempting to dodge  _that_ discussion, she went up onto her tip toes to look over his shoulder at the stove and snagged her red bottom lip between her teeth. “That looks delicious, by the way.”

“Because it _is_. My mom used to make it all the time.” Stiles lifted the pot and poured the steaming pasta into the colander in the sink, turning his face away only to end up looking into her eyes as the last bits of noodle fell out. “It was one of the first things I taught myself how to cook.”  


Setting the pot back on the shut off stove top, he reached over to grab one of the plates, filling it with pasta, and then poured a healthy amount of sauce and chicken over it. He turned to hand it to her, only to stop and grab a hot roll first, plopping it on the edge of the dish and smiling at her. “I'll get your drink, if you wanna dig in.” 

Erica took the plate he handed to her with a nod, slipping past him and moving to the table. Setting the plate down on the placemat, she pulled out the chair and sat down, careful to tuck her dress under her thighs before guiding herself close to the edge of the table. 

Instead of digging in like she was told, Erica glanced around the dining room, a tiny smile still lingering in the corner of her mouth as she took in everything, waiting for Stiles to sit down before she took even the first bite.

There was so much life in this house, a stark difference from the taupes and spotless surfaces of her own. Her mother made the best of what she had, but she had expensive tastes for someone so thoroughly middle class. It drained everything of its color, so unlike the rich woods and bursts of dark green or maroon all around her. 

She was staring at the wall, eyes flicking over the old pictures, when she heard Stiles pull up a chair next to her. Turning to look in his direction, Erica picked up her fork with her left hand and twirled the prongs in the noodles, the other resting just close enough to Stiles' hands to be deliberate.

Stiles just stared at her for a few seconds. It was a little strange, sitting here with someone he'd seen around school most of his life, but didn't really know. He'd be lying if he said he didn't always think of her as 'that girl who had seizures' – had he just always been a complete dick?  


But things were different now, and it wasn't just about her new look. No, the clothes, the make up, the hair – it all fit her like she was born wearing it. Stiles could tell. The power she got from the bite was different from Isaac. She had this in her all along, waiting to come out. He admired that, and only wished he'd been able to see that sooner.  


With a small, tentative smile, Stiles curled his fingers around hers and began filling his fork with food, too. “You- you look...” He pressed his lips together. The hell happened to his words? “...I had something better than 'beautiful' but, uh. That works. Stunning! Stunning, yeah. You look  _stunning_ , proven by my rambling right now.” 

Her toothy grin returned with a vengeance, and she paused just long enough to give his hand a squeeze and tell him thanks before pulling a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

So she was dating a culinary prodigy.

That was good to know.

When – and only when – she was finished chewing, she looked to him, her eyes wide and an unmistakable expression taking up her face. Impressed. She was impressed. “Holy crap, Stiles, this is... like, mind-blowingly good. I'll  _officially_ never be able to look at a bowl of cereal the same again.” Her index finger ran over the inside of his hand. “So you're hot  _and_ you can cook. I knew you were a catch.”

“I can cook, yeah,” he laughed, chewing a bite and nodding to himself. “My dad just looks at a pan the wrong way and it'd catch fire. So it was 'learn to make food' or 'live off take out and die at 30.'” 

“Well, I can't make anything taste good unless it's out of a box. Or sweet. Which is both a blessing and a curse.” Erica twirled another forkful of noodles, took a bite, chewed, and swallowed before continuing. “I had to keep my sugar down before the bite, but it doesn't really matter now. I work off everything anyway. But I'm pretty decent at the baking thing. Good at it, even. I can't wait for you to have a piece.”

“Yeah, something tells me I'm gonna love it.”  


There was a few beats of silence and shared looks and the sensation of her sandal rubbing against his shin before he kept going. “So you don't regret it?” His brows furrowed at his own words. “Sorry if this is too... personal? I just meant... with what Derek did and everything you went through. It's worth it to not have to be a victim to your own body, isn't it?”  


Before she could even say anything, he made a frustrated noise, removing his hand from hers to rub the skin of his forehead. “Ugh, I'm sorry. There's no way you'd want to talk about that, even if I wasn't the most insensitive dick in the world.” 

Erica drew her hand into her lap and looked towards the plate instead of into Stiles' face, her bottom lip pulled into her mouth as she considered the question. Not that there was anything to think about.

“I'll never regret it,” she said, only sneaking one more look at him, her chin still tilted down as she grabbed the roll on her plate and tore off a piece. “I mean... yeah, I have control over even less now than I did before, but I'm stronger. I'm faster and I don't have seizures unless there's some kind of freak accident. Derek's a shitty alpha, but that doesn't make me regret having him bite me.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, poking at his food. “I don't really think about what I'm asking. The whole werewolf thing is still... really freakin' awesome, despite all the trouble finding out about it brought me.” He attempted a smile, but it faded within a second. “I just-- I wanna know you're happy, I guess.” 

Erica managed one, too, though hers remained, if only to pull one out of the boy sitting next to her. “Look at it this way. If I hadn't gotten the bite, I wouldn't have spent an hour up to my elbows in cheesecake, and I  _definitely_ wouldn't be here having my first date with my boyfriend. I'd be at home with a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch watching reruns of Jersey Shore.” She paused, pursing her lips for a moment before she laughed, the same sandal nudging his shin again. “Of course I'm happy.”

Stiles crinkled his nose, lips twisted in a grimace. “Ugh,  _Jersey Shore_ ?  _Really?_ Why do I feel like we're going to have some serious issues in the entertainment department?” It didn't take long for a smile to return, though, and this time, it stayed as well. “For the record... I'm feeling better than I have in months. Something about your ridiculously adorable face does that to me.” 

“Hey, don't judge. I watch it _ironically_. And it's funny. Sometimes.” Erica chuckled and shook her head, “I'm glad. Someone with a smile as cute as yours should _always_ be wearing one.”

“Oh, wow this is going downhill _quick_.” Stiles took a quick bite, swallowing after only a few chews. “At this rate you're going to have an obnoxious pet name for me that I say I hate to keep 'cred' with my friends, but secretly love it by... well at least by dessert, if not midway through the movie or something.” 

Erica worked her jaw as she fiddled with her roll, looking a fair bit smug as she popped another piece into her mouth.

“Who's waiting for dessert, honeybun?”

The ridiculous name started a competition, each one more ridiculous than the last. A couple of them seemed to genuinely stick (Catwoman would always be his thing for Erica but somehow, after their conversation earlier, 'sugar' became something that fit, too). They laughed, a lot more than either of them had in a long time, if Stiles' intuition was even mildly correct. Which it usually was.  


They finished up their meal, and while Stiles soaked the pans he used and put the plates in the dishwasher, Erica got them both a piece of her only slightly malformed cheesecake. It all felt very domestic, something Stiles wasn't entirely sure he was ready for, but enjoyed at the same time.  


Intimacy and commitment ( _reciprocated_ commitment) was terrifying for him. Not enough to make him run away, but he wasn't looking forward to the anxiety that was going to hit him after Erica left. He was remarkably self-aware about his own psychological issues. He lost his mom at a young age. Panic attacks, oral fixations, and fear of relationships were all common side effects.  


He loved his mom, he always would, but what scared him more than anything was ending up like his dad. Stiles knew first hand how much it hurt to be the survivor, but the pain he felt after losing his mom was paltry compared to what his dad went through. He was still wearing their wedding ring all these years later... and while most teenagers didn't have the threat of impending doom over their heads, Erica did.  


Still, now wasn't the time to think about that. Erica's bright grin and mischievous, teasing fingers brought him back to the present, where somehow she ended up leading him around his own house until they were in the living room.  


“We don't really have a huge selection,” Stiles muttered, sliding his hands into his pockets as Erica drifted toward the half-full rack of DVDs. “Mostly aliens getting blown up? Kind of a mood killer, but hey.” 

“Wait, you mean... you and your dad _don't_ have a super secret stash of chick flicks hiding under a floor panel?” Erica teased, glancing over her shoulder before bending over to get a better look at the DVDs. “Was Cowboys and Aliens any good? The premise looked... interesting, but I was never really big on movie theaters, so I didn't get to go see it.”

“Uh.”  


That was literally all his brain could come up with. He wanted to say something like  _well, it was alright, but if you want the real space cowboy experience, we should just pop in Serenity._ But no. No, words weren't an option when Erica – easily the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen this side of his crush on Summer Glau – was bending over. In a short dress. Showing off some absolutely  _incredible_ thighs.  


“I-- I feel morally obligated to tell you about the show you're giving me, but, God, I can't stop looking,” he murmured. “I hope those cancel each other out.” 

If it was anyone else, Erica wouldn't have budged. She might've even bent over farther. But something about the already percolating feelings in her chest and the fact that he'd been... nice enough to point it out made her smooth her hands over her dress until the violet fabric hit the backs of her knees. She even had the decency to blush.

“Can you tell I'm usually a pants kind of girl? I think this is the only dress I've put on since my first communion.” Her embarrassed smile turned into a smirk, even though he couldn't see it. “So... maybe you should pick? Get over here and stop staring at my butt.”

“It's such a _nice_ butt, though.” He was already joining her by the time he'd finished his sentence. It really was an incredible one (though her thighs drew most of his attention) but he wasn't _that_ much of a lecher, especially when Erica tugged her dress down and indicated she didn't want him staring too much.  


Stiles' eyes drifted over his collection.  _District 9_ was a little too gory and a lot too depressing. B _lade Runner_ required too much attention.  _Serenity_ was good, but much better when you'd already seen  _Firefly_ . And by 'much better' he really just meant he wanted her to be as sad about Wash as he was.  


“Leeeet's go with a classic.” He tapped his fingers on the case before he pulled out _Men in Black_. “Yes? No? I have Netflix on my laptop, too.”

Pulling herself back up, she curled an arm around his and nodded. “Can't go wrong with Will Smith, right? This is one of my dad's favorite movies. Mom's not into aliens. Or action. Or fun. So we used to sneak into the living room after she went to bed and watch it.” She pressed her lips together before running her hand up and down his forearm. “And  _that's_ my life story. Overshare, much? Put it on so we can pretend to watch it.”

With that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and hurried over to the sofa, smoothing her dress down before falling gracelessly onto the cushion of her choice.

“Believe it or not, I do _actually_ want to know stuff about you,” he replied with a little chuckle. Turning on the television and the DVD player, he stuck the disc in, standing in front of the screen until he finally got the movie going.  


Stiles flopped down between the arm of the couch and his girlfriend as the copyright warnings rolled. “You're absolutely the hottest person around, but, y'know. I hear relationships need a little more than that?” 

Erica gravitated towards Stiles the moment he sat down, and by the time she answered him, her thigh was pressed up against his and her expression as innocent as anything. “Oh? Really?” She tilted her head to the side. “Did growing up on MTV give me the wrong idea?”

He never really understood why couples made out during movies until he felt their thighs touch. It was like there was something in the air that  _demanded_ that he thread his fingers into her hair and bring her closer, pressing their lips together, though his trembled slightly.  


When he pulled back, he was smirking. “Think so,” Stiles murmured, kissing the skin just under her nose. “Shockingly, I have no clue what I'm doing. But that  _sounded_ like something I should say.” 

“Sounds right to me,” she said, tilting her chin up to bump the upturned tip of his nose with her own. Instead of resting her head on his shoulder, Erica rested her chin on it and curled her arm around his waist. In the background, Tommy Lee Jones was doing his thing, arresting an alien posing as an illegal immigrant. “So tell me something about you, then. Anything.”

“Fair enough.” Stiles didn't really think it was fair, but then, anything that involved them talking about him instead of her bothered him. “Does saying I'm pretty good with a handgun make it seem like I'm trying to hard to impress you? I have a stuffed kitty cat toy that I've had since I was born, if that balances things out.” 

Erica couldn't help but smile. At the cat toy, not the gun. She already knew Stiles could handle himself, even without a firearm. “You don't have to balance anything out. I just wanna know more about you. Or... hm.” The thoughtful sound was punctuated with a long pause. As she considered different ways she could approach learning about each other, her thumb began brushing over his waist, up near his ribs. “How's about... what  _do_ we know about each other? Because I need more opportunities to embarrass myself.”

“Okay. Let's see, uh...” Stiles sucked on his lower lip as he searched his thoughts. “Your birthday is... in November, I think? Before you got your seizures, you were in track and soccer.” Leaning back against the arm of the couch, he goaded her to bring her legs up onto the couch, pressed up against the back of it and tucked under his arm. He brought one leg up as well. “I know you're _really_ brave. Like, walking that fine line of brave and _dumb_ sometimes, no offense. You used to be a brunette.”  


He started toying with the edges of her hair, brow furrowing as he looked into her eyes. “You have big, innocent eyes that I could stare at for  _hours_ , like, the most  _perfect_ body ever... Your nose crinkles when you giggle, but not when you laugh.” Stiles flashed a teasing grin. “Sometimes you snort when you laugh, too. And you're  _smart_ , and really quick on your feet. And you're freaking  _tough_ , like,  _wow_ . Derek was an  _idiot_ not to come for you.” 

Listening to him talk about her like that filled Erica to bursting with butterflies. 

“You've been basically connected at the hip with Scott since second grade. You both came to my birthday party in fourth. I remember because I had a bouncy castle and my mom made us all clear out so Scott could jump in it for a little while without having an asthma attack. Are you still killer at pin the tail on the donkey? Because I almost pinned the tail on _you_ , I was so pissed.”

Rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, she only snuggled closer to him, her legs curling inward. Stiles was warm. The sofa was worn and soft and everything about this was better than she'd even imagined. Even if they were ignoring the movie.

“You have the cutest freckles. Like tons of them. All over.” When he gave her a sideways look, she grinned. “Swimming lessons. Uhm... you've got the most incredible lips. Seriously, I've been wanting on them for years. And you talk about my eyes? Yours... They're _perfect_.”

She paused before giving him a gentle squeeze, turning her chin up so she could look at him again. “You're the bravest out of all of us. You're the smartest guy in just about any of our classes even though sometimes I think you'd be even smarter than Lydia if you worked at it.” Worrying at her bottom lip, her eyes moved from his to his lips to his shoulder and back again. “And I hated knowing I had to get away from here because I didn't wanna leave you.”

Stiles swallowed hard. His heart was beating rapidly. Out of nerves, out of proximity to Erica. Everything about this was created specifically to make his pulse jump like he'd just sprinted around the house a few times.  


“It's okay,” he murmured. “I knew you wanted to get out. I... I mean, it sucked that I didn't get a chance to talk to you. And I hated that that asshole made me leave after beating the shit out of me – I wanted- wanted to get you out of there. God, you guys were both hurting so bad, but it just- just _killed me_ to see you like that.”  


Clearing his throat, he blinked several times in a row, taking a deep breath through his nose. He didn't cry easily, but the memory was intense enough to make his eyes water. “I'm not brave, okay? I'm just not. I do- I do my work from the sidelines and- and I just keep out of the way. That's it. But I tried that night, I really did.” The backs of his fingers brushed over her warm cheek. “I wanted you to have the chance  _to_ run away. Because  _nobody_ deserves to have- have power like that dangled in front of them so they could be thrown into a war. It's not fucking  _fair_ .” 

Erica tilted her head towards his hand, cheek pressing against his fingers. “You are brave, though, Stiles. You saved Derek from the kanima that one time at the pool. And you stayed in front of me and Isaac at the rave. You tried to help us escape and got shocked for it. You stood up to Allison's grandfather, too.” Turning inward, she planted a kiss on the inside of his wrist. It left behind the faintest smudge of red, whatever was left over on her lips after dinner and dessert. Then she looked back at him, still wearing a tiny smile. “Just like you said about me. You're brave, but you're stupid sometimes, too. But you're still brave.”

“I just want to keep the people I care about safe.” Stiles craned his neck and curled his shoulders inward so that he could get close enough to kiss her forehead, lingering there for a moment before laying back down. “That includes you.” 

“Still brave.” Leaning in, Erica rested her chin on his chest before wrinkling her nose and pressing her face into the fabric of his shirt. When she spoke, her voice was muffled. “So not budging on that, honeybun. Sorry.”

The hand still resting on his waist began smoothing up and down until her fingers tangled around the few baddy inches not pinned back behind him. She pulled away from his chest with a little smile. “I also know that you're a great kisser. Which isn't up for debate, either. The best. And that you're totally, completely, 100% my type. Lanky guys have always pushed my buttons. And you're just about the lankiest. So hot.”

“So is this just going to be how it goes?” Stiles smoothed a hand along her hip, doing his best not to accidentally hitch up her dress. “You have an opinion, I have an opinion, but _your_ opinion is the right one so I need to shut up? Because I'm a very argumentative person.”  


There was only a short pause as he shifted under her, not giving her time to answer his previous comment. “...You really think I'm hot?” 

“Pretty much the hottest,” Erica replied without missing a beat, more than willing to ignore his comment if it meant being able to compliment him again. “It's not just because I think you're funny and you've got a great personality, either. You're gorgeous. All of you. Even with clothes on, which is _really_ difficult to pull off. Especially for guys.”

“It's 'really difficult to pull off?' That's funny, because I'm pretty sure I _drooled_ when I saw you, and you're decidedly _not_ naked. Which-- which is something I'm not going to think about right now.” Clearing his throat, Stiles moved his hand from her hip to her bicep, rubbing the warm skin. “I, uh-- thanks, though. I'm... glad you think so?” 

Erica seemed put off.

“You don't believe me, do you?” Her hand left his waist to rub over his stomach, her head shifting to the side until she was nearly resting her cheek against his shoulder again. “I can't really think of any other way to prove it than a steamy makeout session right here on the couch, but... that seems like it'd be moving a little fast, don't you think?”

It couldn't have been more obvious she didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“No!”  


Stiles at least had the decency to blush at his sudden outburst. Or rather, at the arched brow and wicked grin that was being shot his way. “Uh. I mean. You know, making out is just first base. That's totally not too fast. If it's not too fast for you, I mean.” A nervous bubble of laughter left him. “Oooor not. Not's fine. I'm just saying that, from my point of view. Very good pace. Excellent. Sexuality is totally important to explore, right?” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

Lifting herself up on her arms, Erica kissed him. Just once and not for long, a soft press of her lips before she was leaning away again with a smile on her face. She didn't have any trouble guiding him onto his back, only stopping when his head rested on the arm of the couch and he was mostly facing her instead of turned forwards. 

Her shoes fell to the floor with two quiet  _thump_ s after she toed them off, allowing her to get comfortable without marking up the sofa, and her arms circled around his neck. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he could tell she'd never done this before. They were both feeling the situation out, figuring where to move and what to do or say before they finally settled on winging it.

And this is where Erica felt the most comfortable. Close enough to Stiles that their noses brushed, most of her body weight pressed against him and her lips parted. And she couldn't take her eyes off of his mouth.

“God, you are just-- you're _so incredible._ ”  


Stiles' hand slid into her thick hair. Thick and blonde and and curly and as much of a turn on as everything else about her. Drawing her in once more, they kissed again, and this time it was sloppier. They both knew just enough to get themselves into trouble, and soon they were sucking on each other's lips.  


It was when Erica sunk her teeth into his lower lip and tugged that Stiles' eyes shot open, only to slam shut again as he let out a loud moan. It cut off abruptly when he swallowed hard, apple of his throat bobbing.  


“ _Christ_ , Erica,” he said after sucking on his swollen lip. “You're really committed to the whole she-wolf thing, huh?” Stiles laughed, running the pad of his thumb over it as well. “It's _really_ sexy.” 

“I can't help myself,” she murmured. Her voice was huskier than before, though the wicked little smile remained. Now that she knew he'd respond so positively, she only wanted to kiss him again. Harder and longer and the thought that she might feel his tongue on her own made her shiver. “I just go wherever I wanna go with it. I'm glad it worked out.”

Leaning in, she kissed him, focused almost solely on his bottom lip before he felt teeth again. But she didn't tug or bite; she simply dragged them over the skin and shut her eyes.

Stiles' mouth fell open as she repeated the motion, a long, shuddering moan leaving him. His hands coasted along her back, fingers curling and uncurling along the thin fabric of her dress. She was all heat and movement and  _want_ and it was intoxicating. He was already an outstandingly horny teenager. Erica was  _not_ helping.  


As their mouths met again, open and wet, Stiles found himself not caring. Everywhere she touched seemed to be licked with fire, and he only wanted more. It was obvious in the way he groaned into her mouth, how his nails scraped at her scalp and pushed her closer.  


However, it was a second later, when his tongue pushed its way past her lips to slide against her own, that really proved his desire. His hips thrust up, unbidden, but Stiles couldn't regret the sharp spike of pleasure that shot up his spine at the friction. 

It was as easy as that to prove she felt the same.

The movement of his hips broke a similarly long moan from her throat, and she found herself holding onto him even tighter, her body shifting and pressing closer and her thoughts cloudier than ever. If he considered her intoxicating, she wasn't entirely sure there was a word in the English language strong enough for what he did to her.

When she broke away, Erica's breaths were leaving her in short, quiet bursts, and she could hardly think so much as speak.

So after a bout of lengthy eye contact, she kissed him again.

Once, twice, three times on his lips before her head tucked downwards and those seemingly innocent kisses transformed into something hotter, something that left kisses that burned white hot against the skin of his throat.

“O- _oh_ , you're--” Once again, a swallow broke his words. “Holy _shit_. Er-erica.” Turns out, there was such a thing as too fast. Not that he didn't enjoy the sensation – he did, far too much, really – but there was a sudden gripping panic that he felt at her lips heading downward.  


He pushed at her shoulders, though not harshly. “Just-- just need a cooldown,” Stiles muttered, trying not to look directly at her face out of the sheer shame of it. Where did he have to go to turn in his Man Card? “It felt...  _really_ good. Really. Good. I just--” His heart was beating too fast for arousal. Not the first time he really hated werewolf hearing. “I'm sorry.” 

She didn't push back. Surprisingly enough, she let him guide her away, her brows only knitting inward when she managed to catch his eyes. Leaning far enough forward to maintain the little bit of eye contact he allowed her, she bit on her bottom lip, watching his face for any sign and not finding any. With the way his heart was beating, an erratic stutter instead of a racing pulse, she was able to answer most questions that arose herself.

But there was one in particular she wanted to hear from him. “Sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I get... into things really quickly. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles' voice was weak. Not a whisper like Erica's, just... thready, almost timid. “I'm okay. Not-- not mad or anything, I just... I dunno what'll trigger me, and, you know, one minute it's my girlfriend giving me kisses and the next it's thinking about- about how I'm going to cream my pants or-or-or do something completely wrong and make you laugh or maybe the alphas are gonna come in and kill us both.”  


How he managed to fit that all in two short breaths, he really wasn't sure.  


“It's just anxiety. Well. The alpha thing is... is something called hyper-vigilism or something.” He shook his head, brow furrowing as he tried to focus on steadying his trembling hands. “Sorry. I'm kind of a wreck.” 

“It's okay,” Erica murmured, somehow managing to pull herself closer without pressing down on his chest any more than she was already. “I knew what I was signing up for. Trust me. I like you a lot and I'm _more_ than willing to slow it down. I don't wanna send you running for the hills already because I couldn't keep it in _my_ pants. So... right. Calm down. I can calm down.”

The arms wrapped around his neck slipped down to his waist instead, and she was only satisfied with her position when she felt the stammer of Stiles' heartbeat turn into something steadier.

It wasn't too much longer until Stiles fell asleep, around the time Frank showed up on screen. He didn't try to talk, and Erica didn't press him. She was able to hear his heart rate calm, his tension ease away, and eventually notice how his breathing changed when he finally settled into sleep with is fingers still toying with the ends of her long hair. 

She watched the rest of the movie with her cheek pressed to his chest and a smile at the corner of her mouth. When it was over, she reached for the remote, turned off the television, and curled up closer to him. Closer and closer until she was nearly tucked into a tight circle.

It was all sudden. Everything about their relationship was sudden. But she didn't mind. She couldn't mind, not when she caught him smacking his lips and smiling in his sleep before she followed suit and shut her eyes.

So they'd have to work up to everything else.

She didn't mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Erica was a heavy sleeper, but only when she felt safe.

For years, she went to school with bags under her eyes because she was afraid something would happen during the night, that she might hit her head, that even laying in the exact center of her queen sized bed would end in her falling off onto the floor. Then there was a time when she felt secure. She knew she wasn't in danger of seizing, so she slept whole nights through without worrying. That, of course, stopped when she was taken by the Alpha pack.

But flat out sleep returned in the worn cushions of Stiles' couch and the warmth of his skinny body laying half-beneath and half-beside her and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. So maybe she got a little makeup smudged on his shirt. That was hardly the only thing to worry about considering what woke the both of them up.

“So.” 

The word was loud enough to rouse her, and the tone was foreign enough to send a shot of adrenaline coursing through her, reflex tightening her arm around Stiles' waist and jerking her head up even though her eyes were still closed at first.

Blinking up at the person standing above them, adrenaline solidified into pure panic, her dark eyes widening and her grip on Stiles loosening almost completely.

“Uh... hi... Mr. Stilinski.”

“Hello,” the Sheriff greeted, hands on his waist and a suspicious gleam in his eyes. “Stiles. Stiles. Would you mind explaining to me what's going on here?” Erica looked to him, watching his face as his brain finally started working, his eyes bleary and his lips dry. “And since you're still out of it, I'll take this time to say I don't want any smart remarks. I know what's actually going on here.”

Stiles made an odd squeaking noise.

“You really don't want me drawing my own conclusions here.”

Stiles' jaw clicked closed. He could only imagine how it looked. It wasn't like they were in disarray or anything. They hadn't made out enough to leave hickeys or skew clothing and Erica's hair was still a glorious golden mane that was only mussed in the back because of the couch.

He could handle this. Right? Right? His dad had no reason to be mad. “Uh, right. Well. You see, while you were at work, I went to check on Erica.” Said girl was shifting on the couch to sit up, allowing Stiles to do the same. He considered standing, but figured staying sitting was probably the best choice. Plus, he wanted to stay near her. “Well, one thing lead to another and... meet my girlfriend?” 

Erica gave Stiles' dad a pathetic little wave before tugging her dress down farther over her legs. “Sorry. I shouldn't have stayed too long. My mom's probably freaking out.” It was a lie, but it was unlikely either of them would catch it. “I... I only live a few blocks down. I could—“

“You can stay right there. You're not walking home in the dark.” There was a small, unsure smile on the Sheriff's face, and it brought forth one to match from Erica. “Stiles, be a gentleman and bring your girlfriend home.”

She looked to him again, her hand moving from the fabric of her dress to Stiles' and her fingers curled around his. “I brought cheesecake?” When the Sheriff took on an impressed expression, Erica added in a slightly more confident, “Homemade, actually.”

That was all it took for him to turn on his heel with a, “Stay right there. I wanna talk to the two of you,” before disappearing into the kitchen.

The moment his dad was out of sight, Stiles shot from the couch and began pacing up and down the room.

“Oh, God,” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his head. “Ohgod what's he planning. He's planning something. He doesn't even have a reason to be mad.” Stiles stopped, blinking down at Erica's mildly confused face, though she still had that little smile curving her lips. It made him relax. Sort of. “I am so sorry about this. You were not supposed to meet...” Rolling his eyes, he gestured up and down toward the kitchen. “That for awhile.” 

Reaching out towards him, Erica waited until his hand slipped into hers to guide him closer. Closer and closer until he was standing right at her knees, and she could give his hand a squeeze. “It's really not that bad. I mean, I'm not really good with authority figures, but... I really wanna make a good impression, so that might help. Right?”

With a tremulous smile, Stiles sat down next to her again, squeezing her hand in return while using the other to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering there. “No, no, no, no. This isn't-- I'm not freaking out because of you – he'll love you. He has to love you. It's not like you're a troublemaker...” He allowed himself a wider grin. “As far as he knows anyway. We'll, uh... build up to the werewolf thing.” 

“Oh god.” Erica laughed, leaning in until her forehead bumped against his temple. She lowered her voice, fingertips running over the inside of his palm. “I actually forgot about that for a second. Great. Like meeting your dad wasn't scary enough as a normal person.”

“He's cool with Scott? I mean... sort of.” Stiles sighed heavily, interlacing their fingers. “It'll-- it'll be okay. He'll wait until I get back to remind me 'no means no, I'm not sure means no, and drunk means you touch her and I WILL get you chemically castrated, Stiles'” 

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her lips maintaining their curve even pursed against his skin. “I like him already. And hopefully he'll like my—”

“This cheesecake.” The Sheriff dug his fork into the pie and pulled another chunk of it into his mouth, chewing enthusiastically. “Is delicious. I didn't think anyone your age besides Stiles here knew how to cook.”

“I can't cook,” Erica said with a chuckle. “I can bake, though. Stiles can cook.”

“That he can,” he replied, moving across the living room to sit down in his recliner. “So... how long have you two known each other? I've heard him mention you once or twice in the past few months, but nothing before then. Are you new in town?”

Erica shook her head. “Born here, actually.”

“Scott and I went to her birthday party in...” He looked to Erica. “You said fourth?” She nodded, and Stiles smiled before turning to face his dad again. “Fourth grade. Um, we've... okay, I'll just admit it, I was a dick and kind of ignored her until recently. She has very poor judgment.” His eyes went wide. “Not that I'm taking advantage or anything. Seriously, she could fold me into origami!” 

The hand not holding onto Stiles' went up to rub the back of her neck, and she laughed under her breath. “I wouldn't, though, so you don't have to worry about that. I just never told him how I felt until recently. Him ignoring me didn't really have anything to do with it.”

“I'm still trying to wrap my head around how Stiles could ignore you.”

Erica bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes went to Stiles again, a smile threatening to take over her face again. But she didn't say anything. She waited.

“I didn't mean to,” Stiles whined, glaring at his father when he rolled his eyes. “You know I had, like, complete tunnel vision for Lydia. Well. I got over her.” Out of nowhere, his voice became sturdier, back straightening and chin tilting upward. “And I felt like I could be a good boyfriend. So I invited her over for dinner. I took one of your shirts, cooked the best dish I could make, and fell asleep watching Men in Black with her. That's it. You can stop with the disapproving dad thing, okay? I know you want to high five me. I mean, look at her.”

“She a really strong lady,” the boy continued with a bob of his shoulders. “Totally incredible and I feel like an idiot for being hung up on someone who didn't even know I was alive until recently. So. There. I think I've embarrassed myself enough tonight. Can I take her home?” 

The Sheriff knew Stiles wasn't making any of this up. He wouldn't. And the fact that Erica was sitting there, staring at him and basically glowing, made it even easier to shrug and take another bite of cheesecake. 

When she began strapping her sandals back one, he shot her a smile. “It was nice to meet you, Erica.”

She nodded, smiling the same cordial little smile, though hers was twice as big. “It was nice to meet you, too. You guys can keep the rest of the cheesecake.” She paused and smoothed her hands over her dress, sneaking a look at Stiles before glancing back at his dad. “I had enough while I was baking it.”

Stiles and his father gave her a very similar, quiet, “Thank you,” that made the younger Stilinski glare at the older, who simply grinned at his son's distress.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles took a hold of Erica's hand again, leading her toward the front door a little quicker than he'd meant to. “Sorry,” he muttered, loosening his grip on her hand as he unlocked the deadbolt. “I am just several different kinds of desperate to get out of here. I'm hoping fresh air will make it feel less like I'm boiling from the inside out.” 

“I get it,” she replied, sliding her hand up his wrist when he loosened his hold. “I'd rather play in traffic than have you meet my mom again.”

The air outside was indeed fresh. Warm, but not sticky, just enough to not shiver even considering her dress. “And just think,” Erica continued as she hurried around to the other side of the jeep, waiting for him to climb in, unlock the passenger's side door, and lean over just far enough to pop it open. She climbed in, careful to sit on her dress, and shut the door. The smile she aimed in his direction was more than a little mischievous. “At least your dad didn't offer to bring me home. Now we get to make out in your jeep.”

“Oh, man.” Stiles swallowed thickly, fumbling with his keys. “Not that that's not, like, a personal fantasy of mine, but do you think I could get a raincheck on that? In a few minutes when we aren't right outside my house?” 

“That's what I meant, Stiles.” Erica shook her head, her grin turning fond in all of a moment. “I wasn't suggesting we get all hot and heavy right in front of your house.”

She looked at him, brows arched high.

“That can wait for when you're dad's working really late.”

He sucked on his teeth as the engine revved.

“Wow, I am so glad that your succubi ways don't let up even when I'm your boyfriend.” Twisting around to look behind him, he backed out of the driveway and turned toward Erica's house. “It's no big deal, right? I don't get much sleep anyway, might as well give me something nice to think about. It's almost sweet, in a torturous sort of way.” 

Erica laughed at that, tilting her head back to rest it against the back of the seat. “Just being thoughtful. Or a dutiful girlfriend. Or both. Your pick.”

His brown eyes flicked over her neck out for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and paid attention to the road again, taking a left off his street.

“Can we not with the dutiful thing?” Stiles was grinning. “I'm thinking, thoughtful, sweet, and very understanding girlfriend. Also the best, yeah. I'd like 'the best girlfriend ever' thrown in.” 

“Well, I've got the funniest, bravest, hottest guy on the west coast driving me home from the best date ever.” She gestured emphatically before letting her hand fall to the seat next to his leg, her index prodding gently at his thigh. “I'm pretty sure that means I've gotta try my best, you know? Step up my game.”

Stiles was turning again before long.

“Erica? If you want to 'beat me', just wear that dress again.” Once he was driving straight, he turned to look at her, eyebrows raised pleadingly. “For the love of God, please wear it again.” 

“Sure thing,” she replied with another, softer smile before turning her head to glance out of the window. Part of her wished she lived farther away, maybe a fifteen minute drive. Maybe half an hour, an hour, anything to stay in the jeep for a little longer. There was nothing bad waiting for her at home, but home didn't have Stiles and she wasn't really ready to go back to being the only person there three-fourths of the time.

Erica turned her hand over until her palm was facing up, the corner of her mouth pulling farther upwards to reveal a strip of teeth when she felt his hand curl over hers.

He didn't even let go to shift gears, though he only needed to do that a few more times until he was putting it in park outside her house.

Stiles was grateful for the size of his jeep's cabin for the first time ever when he realized just how easy it was to move that hand that had been holding hers into the thick of her hair, slender fingers sliding along gold tresses until the tips were just about curling behind her head.

Drawing her closer, he leaned in as well, until their lips met, tilting his head to the side preemptively.

Stiles released a sigh into the kiss. Not exasperated or frustrated. Just a simple, content exhale that ended in a small, uncharacteristically happy noise. 

At the noise, Erica smiled, though the kiss was only broken for a moment before her arms were curling around his waist and she was sliding over the worn-smooth leather to get even closer to him. Her lips parted just enough to focus another kiss to his upper lip, her fingers rubbing up and down the curve of his lower back. When she leaned away, she was more than tempted to ignore the need for air and kiss him again.

But instead, she lingered only a few inches away, her eyes on his and crinkled around the edges due to the width of her smile. “Tonight really was the best date ever,” she murmured. “I'm glad you came over today.”

“Yeah, definitely one of my better decisions.” Stiles ran his fingertips along her bare bicep, staring down the goosebumps that formed on her skin. He kissed her again, quickly and softly. “Do you... maybe wanna do dinner and a movie this Friday?” 

Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she nodded, her own eyes falling to where his fingers touched her skin only to lift up to his face again. “Sounds good to me.” One of her hands slid around to his waist, thumb running over the curve of it. “I'll text you sometime.” A silence extended between them, and her face screwed up in a nose wrinkle and a laugh. “Okay, a lot of the time.”

“Good.” 

There was another kiss. Or maybe five. It could have been upwards of twenty – honestly, Erica had a way of bending time and space, he was pretty sure. Though all those powers seemed to be centered in the tongue. He was going to have to do research later. A lot. For science.

“Hah.” Stiles' ears were pink by the time they finally broke for breath. “I'll, um... I'll walk you to your door? I mean. I will. Definitely. Unless you don't want me to for whatever reason.” 

“You bet your ass I want you to walk me to my door,” Erica murmured, giving him a squeeze in her arms before opening the door and hopping out of his jeep before he could say a word. She could barely breathe in the jeep; the kisses weren't very intense, but they left her entire body humming, her head racing, and her heart beating so fast she was afraid it'd jump out of her chest.

Needing fresh air was becoming a theme for the night.

Breathing in deeply, Erica idled around the door while Stiles shut his own and rushed around to meet her, smiling similarly when she wrapped her arm around his waist again and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

The front door was too close. Everything was too close. Even walking three times slower than usual brought them to her door faster than she wanted, and her smile was gone by the time she went up onto her tiptoes to pull the spare key down from the rusted light beside it.

But instead of unlocking the door and shuffling inside, Erica turned to him again. This time, she didn't kiss him, but pulled him into a hug, her arms circling around his neck and pulling him closer.

And what she could pull in, Stiles closed with a shuffle of his feet, arms wrapping around her waist and squeezing her close.

They didn't budge for a long while. There were no words, just two steady heartbeats lingering outside the door that was threatening to ruin the illusion of peace the two of them had built up. No matter what Stiles wanted to believe, the rational side of him was reminding him with a blaring siren that the alphas were still out there. Peter, the hunters, and who knew what else.

She could be torn from him just as easily as his mom was. As Scott was, by spending more and more time with Isaac. As Allison was by her own family. Jackson he didn't even like, but he was still important to Lydia... not to mention no one, no matter how douchetastic, deserved to be someone's lizardy murder puppet.

“Hey, uh...” Stiles stammered on his words. His voice was softer than it'd been the entire night, and that vulnerability just made him keep his face buried in her neck rather than looking into Erica's eyes. “Look, I- I know I'm no werewolf. But... if you get in trouble again...”

Now he had to look. He had to pull away and find those big, gorgeous doe eyes and try not to tear up like an idiot when he saw her lips twitching. “Call Boyd. Call Scott, Isaac. One of them. I wish I could tell you to call me first, but I care about you way too much to put you in that sort of danger. I- I mean, I know you can handle yourself, I just... make sure they know to tell me, too. And I'll come help. I will. I just... I don't know, I need to draw this line in the sand. Right now. I need you to- to be safe, you know? So please don't call me first.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Unless you need, like, non-lethal help, in which case I am all over it, but-- God, I am making no sense.” 

Erica began blinking halfway through Stiles' quiet monologue, and by the time he finished, her eyes were unabashedly wet, something shifted around and moved inside of her that she couldn't stop. “No, I get it. It makes sense. I'll just... I'll call you, too. After I call one of them. If it gets bad.” Her throat tightened, and she shook her head. “But it'll be alright. They don't really think I'm a threat anymore. I'm just some omega, right? Since Derek didn't come and claim me and hasn't since. I'll just... keep an eye out. Try to keep out of trouble. I promise.”

“Yeah, and I totally believe there's not something a billion times worse than those fucking alphas waiting out there. Oh, wait, no I don't.”

He shook his head again, letting go of her just to slide his hands down her arms and clasp her hands. “I'm sorry. I need to just... just kiss you and say goodnight.” 

Erica squeezed his hands in hers, chin tilting upwards and her lips pursing slightly.

“Then kiss me and say goodnight.”

Stiles dipped down and avoided her lips entirely, kissing her cheek and relishing in the way she smiled, forcing the warm skin against his lips. He kissed her forehead, too, and the tip of her nose.

When she giggled, he really had no choice but to dot kisses all over her face until she was actually laughing and clutching to his arms, which was when he struck, suddenly silencing the melody of laughter in favor of a very much appreciated, if quiet moan from the girl in his arms.

They exchanged good nights and she even added a sweet dreams, Mr. Wayne over her shoulder as she walked into her home, leaving Stiles babbling and drooling on her welcome mat.

Again, Stiles lost track of time, but eventually he got back to his jeep and started home. He didn't have any illusions about his dad being asleep by the time he got home, but it was alright.

Now that he had time to relax, he really didn't have a problem explaining just how amazing his girlfriend really was.


End file.
